I see a letter on the floor,
It seems to disappear,
Burnt corners and blood-red stains,
Stay with it through the year.
I see a page torn out the book,
The book of memories,
Uneven carvings jagged cuts,
When I lay it on my knees.
I see an empty photo-frame,
The memories of life,
Chipped edges and uneven surface,
Proof of all the strife.
I see some colour in my world,
It all just fades to grey,
Depression bloody anger's plight,
They had it all their way. |
